#*posts something without bothering with comedy*

[gildedmuse]

Fandom rookie here. Could you please walk me through your Zoro/Law and Zoro/Ace HCs? Love your humor btw!

Ahhh! A little fandom greenhorn! So cute!

You have asked the wrong person the wrong question, newbie.

ZoLaw:

Zoro is from the East, and while he isn't use to Winter Island Cold, he naturally runs hot. Law is from the North and while he HATES being stuck on Summer Islands on hot days, he naturally runs cool. They balance each other beautifully when they share a bed.

Up in the North Blue, it's considered weak to admit that you're cold. Weaknesses gets people killed in the North Blue, so having someone imply you need an extra blanket is a direct insult to a person's ability to keep themselves and their loved ones alive. So obviously Law would never need the extra heat.... But he MAY find himself scooting closer to Zoro-ya on the chillier nights.

The handle of a katana isn't the only thing Zoro can talk around.

...

(Cock. He can talk around a mouth full of cock. And Law LOVES it. Its the only time he can stand one of the Strawhats yapping on).

Look, Law is scientifically minded and likes to believe he is very rational (that's open to debate). He's seen Zoro-ya in the sea and knows he doesn't have a devil's fruit. But sometimes it feels like he does. SPECIFICALLY, one that somehow manages to undo every single one of Law's plans. Because the problem certainly isn't in Law! His plans are complex and perfect. But anytime he comes up for one about how to, say, ask Zoro-ya out it always somehow manages to go terribly wrong. It MUST be a devil's fruit ability.

The first time Zoro actually properly asks Torao out, he first bows to and addresses Kikoku. Since it's imperative he has the curse blades permission to touch his master (especially with all the touching Zoro has planned).

Law doesn't get jealous. That's petty and below him

Law has personally threatened at least three shichibukai and one very (also highly annoying) horny yonko. Not because he was jealous, they just need to step off and stop looking at HIS Zoro-ya that way.

If you ask the boys when they started dating, you get VASTLY different answers. Law would argue that while he'd of course taken notices of the other Supernova back on Saboady, the boy then disappeared for two years and besides Law had a lot of plans that he needed to focus on and execute perfectly. They didn't really see each other again until after Punk Hazard and of course Law was very distracted until after Doflamingo..... Then the horrors they saw on Zou, though, admitedly he may have found himself distracted by Zoro-ya once or twice even at the time.... You know, he would say it was Wano. It was Wano when he realized what an idiot the other boy was, and how he absolutely needed Law on the ground watching after him or he would do something amazingly stupid like... Like listening to Law's plan for instance! When Zoro-ya endangering his life was CLEARLY not what Law intended! Yes, that is when Law decided this boy simply couldn't be considered safe unless Law is there to watch after him..... Also, it's sometimes nice when Zoro-ya looks after him as well.... SOMETIMES.

Zoro would say "Did you see Torao cut that island in half?" And that is all he has to say on the subject of when they started dating.

Law has noticed that Zoro-ya doesn't seem to pay much attention to what he wears, just picks up what is nearest and easiest and throws it on. On an unrelated note, Law has been "accidentally" making sure to strip down right by their bed, and leaving his shirts right there. His shirts with his jolly roger.

Nico Robin had to use not just her ability but her most Teacherly voice in order to separate Luffy and Law when Zoro shows up with the Heart Jolly Roger on his shirt. Law's smirking about it (while Zoro remained utterly confused through the entire fight) didn't help.

Zoro is super weak to people playing with his ear. This goes double when it's Torao and his stupid, sexy hands. He already wants to squirm whenever he watches Torao do that stupid switch-switch thing, but once Torao starts to sit closer and, even while reading his fingers seem to find their way to Zoro's earrings..... Twirl twirl twirl, TUG. Its enough to break Zoro's brain.

Historically, Northern denizens tended to have shorter and much more dangerous lifes compared to the relatively safe and stable East Blue, leading to them having a much different view of things like romance and marriage. That's part of why tattoos are so popular among North Blue denizens. However short your inevitably short life is, a tattoo is permanent. You can't change your mind or take it back. It's a way of wearing your loyalty.

Right behind his ear, the same side as his piercings, Zoro has a small black heart tattoo. He got it on their way up to Wano.

Usopp still doesn't understand how Zoro got lost on a submarine. He didn't see him for a whole four days! What's so funny, Robin.....

I actually have a number of HCs for these two that basically boil down to "Each Island should have its own culture, and by extension, each Blue should have its own culture the way each state has its own culture but the USA also has its own general culture." This can range from things like what I mentioned above, about North Blue having historically shorter lives due to the harsher environment or being more technologically advanced. But I also had smaller things like Law kissing Zoro-ya on the nose, since up North that was how you showed affection to family or younger friends and acquaintances. I also went the entire opposite direction of "smaller" and invented an entirely Shinto derived religion that's customs and kami differed based on the Blue.

I even came up with particular weather that happen almost strictly up North (Ice Storms which are incredibly deadly at sea and Black Mist, a yet unexplained phenomena that seems to choke the life out of any one who gets caught outside) and then wrote up an entire "Old North" mythology that explains the two phenomena and why they often follow each other even though one happens strictly on land and the other typically at sea. I pretty much full on created a whole religion and mythology and wrote individual stories just so Law could have a whole culture that belonged to HIS blue. The myth in question involved a human falling for a siren, and just like actual myths I created multiple retellings and versions where the characterization changed depending on the message the storyteller was trying to express. But in most every version the Siren, Isa, had green hair (because of course the North associates green hair with fertility; oh that's another thing, I created a whole sex profession hierarchy for the North Blue with the one common feature among different types of sex workers being they typically dyed their hair green, like that was a way to physically depict that you were fertile and later that you were, you know, open to being fertilized) and regardless of how they are depicted they end up turning into the shards of an Ice Storm either because they accidentally take human captain's life, do so and then regret their hunger, or are told they have killed them and in turn kill themselves. Law was told the latter version as a child and so always felt bad for Isa, who didn't know they were eating the captain's life force but the crew could have just told him and he would have left and instead because he is "different" they think it's better if he simply destroys himself. It's a character Law can both identify with but also see aspects of Zoro in; both his physical appearance which I'm sure to Law he just pictures Zoro now, but also in his loyalty and honor which aren't as important values up North which instead values survival and strength.

As you can see if I presented an accurate list of my HCs for these two, it would be insane and make no Earthly sense. I just really enjoy world building, especially when that world building leads to two hot sword boys pining after one another.

Oh, did I mention the whole "green hair = sex worker" association and just how personally All Hearts Law takes that when applied to his Zoro-ya?

Yeah.....

ZoBurn FistRo PortZoro

ZoAce:

Upon meeting him during Alabaster, every single non Luffy Strawhat was - at least a little -totally into Ace. He just seemed so cool (and also hot.) He's like a sexy Luffy and the whole crew wanted some.

Zoro wanted it the most, bitches

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing���and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There��s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

��That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. ‘You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slit, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“And impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want your cum to coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into oblivion for what it seem endless eternity, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” you muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, I did that, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassured, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

[cattjull]

Sugary sweet

summary: You were supposed to go to a party tonight. Abby receives you at her home, though, crying about not having permission from your parents to go.

a/n: I'm so sorry for not posting but honestly I'm really really depressed since a few months ago and I cannot bring myself to do anything good or productive enough. I don't even think this passes my quality check but at this point and due to my inconsistency nobody will even remember I wrote fics once soo... Please enjoy or something :)

cw: implied age gap but not specified!

Abby laid down on her side, wet hair clinging to her skin and cascading down her neck and sprawling on her pillow, small droplets falling from her loose, golden hair onto the bedsheets and her pajamas like molten gold looking for a form in which to solidify.

It was 12 p.m. in a normal Friday night, which normally meant she could stay up to whenever she felt like it, go to bed anytime and mindlessly scroll down on her phone or read a book until she decided to turn all of her lights off, text you her usual good night message and drift off to sleep, her pillow being an one-way ticket to the land of dreams which you had took over and claimed as yours ever since you guys started dating.

But this was one of those nights. Those where you'd go out to some party and she'd be going to bed late without inviting anyone over or going out, where she wouldn't pay attention to her phone or get distracted with other simple activities because of her excessive worries, often finding herself fidgeting with her rings, adjusting her glasses, or eating fruits just because of her anxiety.

She loved you a lot, too much even but sometimes she didn't have enough stamina to be your company in parties, even if she really tried to attend with you almost always. She really didn't enjoy that lifestyle, mundane parties with shitty music and potentially dangerous people, but oh guess who does! Her girlfriend.

She feels lucky to have you, truly. It's not like she was planning on sleeping until you texted her you got home safe, but her mind started divagating somewhere far away from the book she held between her big hands and she just knew that, once again, she'd spent worrying over you at least until 4 a.m., maybe even after you texted her you were safe in your house. So she took off her glasses and placed the book down on her nightstand, signing loudly and preparing herself for another sleepless night.

You may be having fun in your friend's party, where you obviously invited her but she refused, knowing you'd most likely end up alternating your time between gossiping with your friends and clinging onto her while the others ignored her, which made her feel unwanted by them.

Maybe there was someone flirting with you and you were too drunk to tell them to stop. Maybe you were flirting with someone and tomorrow you'd call her like nothing talking to her about how much you hate hangovers. Maybe you were crying because someone was mean to you. Maybe you were doing something stupid. How could she know?

Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the small sound coming from her window. It sounded like a small rock: there it was, your signature way of getting into her house. She didn't know why but everything about your behaviour was so sweet and dumb, just as any teenager but make it cute romantic comedy like. Everything you did was a small reminder of the small age gap between you two, which made her feel guilty every time.

She got closer to the window and saw you standing there with your eyes looking slightly red and swollen, as if you had been smoking weed, with your mini bag being clutched to your waist with one hand while the other waved at her. She quickly rushed downstairs, not even bothering to put her slippers on, and unlocked the door for you.

Luckily, her dad was out in the hospital so he wouldn't wake up by the sound of her feet pattering on the wooden floor or the tinkering of the keys or... Anything else you'd be doing.

When the blue eyed girl opened the door, she took in your appearance, noticing you had the same clothes that you had worn a few hours ago when you sent her nudes and a really thoughtful video. You told her that would be your outfit for the party, so why were you in her house if this hour wasn't even close to the one you usually would be going home?

Her orbs shamelessly fixed on you, and how couldn't they when taking you in felt so natural? After what felt like an eternity, Abby started functioning again and regained her speech. "Babe... What happened with the party?" She questioned.

"My parents didn't want me to go. So I escaped. Sorry for not telling you but they took my phone away." You explained, in that moment you felt so angry you were crying, something you were deeply ashamed of to be honest. Your voice was completely sweet towards her when you didn't talk about your parents, though. Abby cupped your face with her warm, big hands, noticing you hadn't been smoking anything. Your pretty eyes were spilling diamond tears.

"You'll stay with me tonight, honey." She reassured you. "I'm not driving you to that party, yeah?" You immediately smiled and hugged her, burying the side of your face in her god-sculptured chest and nuzzling your cheek against her. "I'll do as you say." You obeyed lovingly.

"I bet you prefer me over those parties, sweetheart." She replied with a soft smile.

"Of course I do. You're the best Abby, I love you so much and I'd choose you over anything, okay?" You reassured her, causing her to giggle at your directness. That kind of words often came out of your mouth by themselves, as always you praised her. As if you just quoted every love song you heard.

"Didn't you bring anything by the way?" She asked as she hugged you back, embracing you with her buff, juicy arms and picking you up.

"I brought my toothbrush, makeup and fifty dollars." You said, prideful of your improvised packing skills as she held you up to her body with one arm, using the other hand to close and lock the door.

"Pretty good." She nodded with approval, heading upstairs.

Last time you escaped home for something like this, you had brought your phone charger (your phone was taken), a bar of chocolate, your earphones (again, your phone was taken) and no money.

"I know." You smiled and placed a kiss in her clavicle. In Abby's room, she sat down as you straddled her, shifting so you were using her chest as a pillow as she laid on actual ones, staring down at you.

"You aren't really... Crying anymore." She commented, caressing your cheekbone as she observed the change in your mood.

"No. I stopped crying when you picked me up. Guess I was happy to see you." You confessed, kissing her cheek.

"Is that so?" She questioned with affection, caressing your hair.

"You know you heal my heart, Abby." You whispered before kissing her. It was velvety, wet, and sweet. Abby's lips were the cake to your sickly sweet frosting, joining together on a wet and tender kiss, intertwining your souls and tying them up together with an invisible string without even knowing it. That's just how you were.

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

SKZ Sub!Felix x Dom!FTM Reader

Summary: You are both roommates, you are stressed and need some relief and Felix being the best man he is, helps you by asking him for help.

Theme: Smut, is kinda short, comedy, fluff, kinda cringe

Warning: You don't have a bottom surgery however it is called a 'Dick'. Mentions of your dick being as Folds/Core but not as much. Practically Felix giving you a mighty good stress relief head and handjob. Kinda lazy but not...the grammar might be very bad. It's practically just Felix giving you oral, a handjob, and the end. You called him a good boy a few times. Hair pull and Head control (Felix receiving)

(This is all for fanfic, not real, yeah)

Author note: I finally made and posted something after all of these years...

please like, reblog, or/and comment on feedback etc

College was stressing you out; it was your junior year of college, and finals were coming up. You spend your days cramped in your room studying besides stepping out to get something to eat while your roommate, Felix, sits on the couch eating popcorn while watching his fifth movie, not bothered to notice your presence, not like you care anyway. 

You and Felix have been roommates for 2–3 years; technically, You both are best friends. You both thought living in an apartment together would be fun so you both did exactly that, sharing half of the money to pay the rent.  

He knew you were a transgender man when you first came out to him around your freshman year, giving him a heads up just in case he wanted to switch roommates; however, Felix stayed, not caring about gender, sexuality, etc. He was honestly chill with it, so you both got along right away, along with your hobbies and interests. 

You wasted your hours writing notes, reading, and not giving a single break, making you stressed and in need of relief. 

So, you pause the alarm as you lean back from your chair, staring at the ceiling, sighing from the headache that is making you rub circles on the sides of your forehead, hoping the ache can disappear. 

“I need to get laid.” You whispered to yourself as you looked down at your shorts, having the urge to just touch yourself—something to release the stress—so you did. You rubbed the lining of your boxers where your dick was feeling a bit of pleasure, filling your body and making you sigh.

It wasn’t much, it wasn’t enough; you needed more, but that’s all you got. You continued until Felix, the gentleman he is, barged into your room without even knocking as he stared at you in quite shock. 

You stopped what you were doing as you stared back, looking at him with a huge, concerned expression on your face.

“Felix, first of all...”

“I am so so so so sorry! It’s just that the movie I watched pissed me off, and I had to rant to someone, so I thought it was a good idea to rant it out to you since you are here and doing work, so I thought, ” Felix rambles while blushing furiously as he tries not to look at where your hand is placed. 

“Okay, Felix, first of all, please stop talking.” Felix immediately obeys, shutting his mouth as he just slowly blinks at you. 

“2nd, you should've knocked; you never know what I'm doing.” 

Felix frowns a bit as he looks to the side as he gets scolded by you.

“3rd, since you are here, I do need help.” Now that caught Felix's attention as he looked back at you, processing what you meant as he slowly turned red again.

“You want my help? I- uhh…” He stutters, causing you to just laugh at his sputtering.

“Come on, Felix, I know you want to at least touch me. Do you think I haven't noticed the way you looked at me or around my ex-lovers every time they kissed me? You bet you even wish you were them…”

“But better.” 

You looked at Felix as he stared at you, licking his lips.

“Yes, maybe. If you help me, that is... Unless you can’t prove it, then that's fine. I'll find another way.” 

Felix quickly shakes his head as he walks up to you, getting on his knees as he looks up at you for your permission to continue.

You nodded as you felt his hands reach through your shorts, pulling them down. He notices how wet you are from your boxers as he licks his lips one more time, his fingers teasing the lining of your dick, which causes you to shimmer in his touch.

“Come on, Felix, be a good boy for me. I’m desperate and in need of relief, you know that?” Felix blushes again at the pet name you have given him as he just nods, grabbing onto your boxers, pulling them down, and finally revealing your wet dick. 

Felix gulps as he brings back his fingers and starts touching around the wet folds, then to your sensitive dick from all of the rubbings you did. You moaned slightly, biting your lip as you stared down at the man, touching and touching.

His fingers rubbed your dick up and down, giving you a handjob. As his other hand moves his hair away, he gets ready to suck you off, but it keeps on coming back to the front, irritating the poor man.

So, being the nice roommate you are, you grabbed onto his hair and pulled back for him, almost taking control of his head. He moans from the stretch of his hair as he mumbles a ‘thank you’.

You felt his head leaning in from you, holding his hair in place, reaching through your dick, giving it a few kitty licks until he finally opened his mouth wider as he sucked your dick, making you moan, finally feeling the relief you needed. 

He was trying to multitask with his fingers rubbing your dick and his head giving you a good suck. 

His eyes were staring up at you, moaning from the pleasure that he was giving you, and he even felt himself getting confident from his actions, as he had never had sex before or something like this, so he was happy to see you enjoying it.

Your bottom hips move as you feel the sudden urge to take control of his head, wanting him to go faster, so you do. 

Firstly, you grip his hair, pulling his head back as his tongue was a bit out, staring at you confused, whimpering a bit from the loss of contact with his mouth to your dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, kissing his forehead and then his cheek, praising him for how good he was making him smile.

“Felix, do you mind letting me take control of your head?” Felix shakes his head. 

“No, darling, do you ever want, please?” You smiled as you pulled his head back to your dick, feeling his mouth already back into action as you kept his head in there, moving his head around for a bit.

“Just tap my thigh when you need a breather, alright?” 

His humming response vibrated through your core, making you moan slightly. 

“Fuck, you're so good at this, Felix. I almost feel like you are a natural, just for me. What good you are. 

He tapped your thigh for a breather. You pulled his head out to let him breathe as you noticed a bit of a wet spot on his sweatpants. 

You smirked, commenting on it, teasing him. "Oh, look, you even came untouched; how cute! Just from all of my praises. 

Felix looks away out of embarrassment.

“No need to be embarrassed; it’s cute, like I said. Now, let’s go back; I’m almost there.” Felix nodded as you pushed his head back in.

Felix sucked harder and faster, rubbing your dick at such a quick pace that you almost felt like you were in heaven. It was too good.

“Fuck, fuck~ Felix, I’m about to come!” You moaned as you tried to pull his head back, but he wouldn’t budge. He continued until you came. 

Felix pulled back a bit, as some of the substance was on his face. He licks around as he stares at the state you are in. 

You sighed, feeling your legs twitch a bit.

“Did I do good?” 

You nodded as you took the tissue that was on your desk and wiped its face off. 

“You did so well; I'm so proud of you. You are better than my exes.” You smiled as you gave him more kisses. “Thank you, Felix.”

“You’re welcome!”

[perfectprettypisces]

I try to stay out of tabloids and gossip sites and I'm probably end up deleting this, but something really irked me and I felt like I wanted to share...

⚠️ WARNING: LONG POST INCOMING (BUT IT'S IMPORTANT, I PROMISE) ⚠️

To be completely transparent, I am a big fan of both Glen and Adria as actors and I, admittedly, have not seen Hit Man yet. I also don't know personally (obviously) or as people. But I'm writing this post not as a fan, but as someone hoping to work in the industry one day as a writer. Something that bothered me about Entertainment Tonight taking this quote from Glen and Adria's InStyle interview is that it's almost trying to make cheap gossip out of what was actually a very important conversation that they had with the interviewer about filming the sex scenes in Hit Man.

This is the quote with context. The interviewer asks them: This movie is such a tonal mix: action, noir, comedy. How did you find the right balance? Were there other movies you used as touchstones?

In an industry that notoriously undervalues, mistreats, and silences women's voices, ESPECIALLY women of color, I think it reflects well on this film (as well as on Richard Linklater and Glen) that Adria felt safe enough that she was able to provide her input on these intimate scenes and how they can do it in a way that they're both comfortable.

This has NOT always been the case and unfortunately, still isn't the case for many women in film. Entertainment Tonight taking that quote out of context to make a graphic out of it cheapens the entire conversation because unfortunately, not everyone cares to read the rest of the article and will take that quote and run with it. Some people might not even read the caption. However, their caption wasn't that much better either.

This movie doesn't work without Adria and I know that even without watching. Both Glen and Richard Linklater have stated multiple times that they needed Adria to make this film work. By what they say about each other, it seems like there's a lot of trust there.

I hope my obvious fangirling on Tumblr about Glen and Adria (mostly Glen) doesn't discredit this entire post. Still, as I said in the beginning, even if I wasn't a fan of Glen and Adria, I would still side-eye this post after reading the entire InStyle article. Hollywood has always needed to do better when it comes to the treatment of women on film sets and seeing this important conversation boiled down to an out-of-context graphic is just not sitting right with me.

I highly recommend reading the entire InStyle article. With the way they talk about the film, it's obvious they both worked really hard on it and are proud of the outcome.

This could be me overreacting, but as someone who wants to work in a (hopefully but doubtfully) changed industry, I truly despise narratives like these blocking out bigger issues that deserved to be addressed.

[froggieco]

Some controversial thoughts about the Peachyville Horror

I've been seeing how everyone is reacting to Francis's moment in the bathroom in this latest episode (episode 7) and I thought I might as well add one more.

Francis is someone who is mentally unstable, yes. I think this is something we can all agree with. He's surrounded by people who seem to either enable his actions in one way or another or they're on a list of people he keeps which we can only assume is something like a hit list. He's been looked down on by his parents, bullied by his peers, and generally just beat down by everyone around him including himself at this point. Then he won that trophy. That's where everything shifts. He's the one to take it home and it's obvious that by how Will was describing that trophy, something about it had negative energy.

⚠️Now I get into some gory details in this next part so fair warning ⚠️

Now, Francis had his dream and suddenly became violent to an extent that he would joke about it and people would feel threatened. Relistening to episode 5, he threatened a man after scooping his eyes out with an ice cream scoop by kicking him in the balls and then grabbing his eyeballs and threatening to squeeze them. Now, I get it this is a horror comedy podcast but if we are gonna analyze a character I'm taking everything into account and really this is the first and really an extremely violent thing for a person to do, especially when this is the first actions he's been known to take.

Getting the gun and instantly he seemed to know exactly what he "needed" to do. On a dime, the Francis we knew just a few episodes ago was already so different.

Now that brings us to the bathroom scene. People have been saying it was a mental "snap" or "break" which doesn't line up, like how most others have pointed out that this was something that was premeditated. He planned out this whole thing and followed through with it. And to those who think he did this so Shane wouldn't bother him anymore, he didn't see Francis at all through the whole attack, which yes, Francis could go back and claim he did it but I still this it's important to note we don't know if Shane will believe him.

That being said, with every increasingly violent act that Francis had done up to that point it made sense within the confines of his world. It was in his character that things have played out this way so far. And really I think it's going to make for a really interesting character arc. He isn't going to to be a character that we have seen before, which when we just had a season of teens that were just coming into themselves Anthony is getting his chance to get his character in, and it is a horror series. This doesn't make any of the actions acceptable by any means and this should not encourage people to romanticize any of the actions he does. There is a way to like a character and not romanticize their actions, some of these posts remind me of posts of people romanticizing real murderers and shooters, which is rather disturbing.

TLDR

Francis suddenly got violent after bringing the trophy home, having a dream after being under his teacher's bed for 4 hours, and now he's suddenly he's on a bloody rampage and those around him are either enablers or in his line of fire and that's an interesting new character to think about. But don't romanticize that shit.

Extra

• Another idea I saw floating around was that Francis got switched with his reflection in the trophy, which I love the idea of this one. It can keep the idea of mental health slightly but it brings the story back into it. But, I understand that even without evil trophies, people like Francis exist in our world.

• Also having him practice with his bully's face as the target was really the warning. I personally didn't know the scene was going to be that graphic but now looking back I get the horror side of the podcast now. As someone who lives in America it was something that shocked me the first time listening to it, knowing that the usual stuff that the guys bring up I can laugh off. This scene most definitely felt different and I'm sure that it's going to be a huge turning point for a lot of things.

[yourheartonfire]

The first sign something was wrong was when the hero opened the door without bothering to check the peephole. Or maybe that was the seventh or eighth sign, after the way the hero had disappeared and the terrible rumors going around and the silence from the Agency and - oh yeah - that dreadful beating they’d taken a month ago from Supervillain that was still being meme-ed and clipped and posted and reposted and -

All right. There were a lot of signs something was wrong, but the hero opening their door first and then their eyes going wide to see who was on their doorstep was the first sign that villain had personally witnessed that something was wrong.

“Nope,” the villain snapped. “Don’t like it.”

“What-” the hero managed to say before the villain’s hand closed around their throat and drove their nemesis backwards into their home, kicking the door shut behind them.

“Don’t like this look you’re giving me,” the villain said and slammed the hero into the wall.

The hero grabbed for their forearm, eyes dim in the gloomy dark. “And what look is that?” they hissed. 

“You should be looking at me with fear. Like, oh no! My death is coming!” the villain snarled back. They snapped one cuff around the hero’s wrist, spun them around. The hero staggered. Staggered! The villain huffed and shoved them into the wall again, this time face first, so they didn’t have to see those terrible sunken eyes in hero’s face. “Instead,” they murmured, clamping the second cuff on, “you look at me with relief. Like, oh yay! My death is coming!”

The hero let out a strangled noise not quite a laugh, half-muffled by the wallpaper. “Go on then,” they said. “Guess you won’t get what you want out of me.”

“Oh yes, I will.” The villain dragged the hero down the hall, shoved them onto the couch of their living room. It was a nice low couch, perfect for looming over. “I want you to suffer, hero. And if death is a release, well. I can work with that. Princess Bride or Pride or Prejudice?”

The hero blue screened - their weary defiance smashed into confusion. And, for the first time, a spark of the real hero’s curiosity. “Uh...”

“You want to die? Tough.” The villain grabbed the remote. Luckily the hero was a Luddite, it only took a few seconds to get the TV turned on and streaming services fired up. “Not only will you not be dying, tonight you’ll be subjected to the treacliest of manipulative schlock that Hollywood has to offer. Or are you more of a comedy...” They trailed as off as they opened the hero’s watch history. The hero winced. “I’m sorry. This seems to indicate your most watched movie over the past five years is Planes 2: Fire and Rescue?” 

“It’s actually really good,” the hero muttered.

“The sequel to the spin off of Pixar’s worst-?” The villain cut themselves off, jammed the play button. “Right. The instrument of your suffering has been chosen. And apparently my suffering too,” they muttered under their breath, plopping down on the couch next to the hero. “You got snacks?”

The hero was staring at them. Slowly they shook their head. “You’re a liar,” the villain grumbled and reached over them to grab their phone. “I’m ordering pizza and you’re paying for it. Why the hell is that airplane wearing literally a corn costume?”

“Watch the movie and find out,” the hero said. “Can you uncuff me now?”

“No,” the villain said, pulling the hero closer as they searched for the most expensive pizzeria in the neighborhood. “You’re being tortured. Shut up.”

The hero did. And if the villain noticed as the tension slowly left their nemesis’s shoulders, well, there was a terrible movie to distract them both.

[notnights]

So obviously it's still too early to properly analyze the exact relationship dynamic between Jax and Gangle in canon. I promise this is less of me trying to find legitimate proof of any character speculations, and more just a string of very quick, messy personal thoughts on the topic. Context and motivation for their behaviors are likely to be explained in future episodes, and until then there's still quite a lot of uncharted territory left to explore. (Although I will say that both these characters are surprisingly more active and engaging with each other upon rewatch. aka, their willingness to be around one another seems mutual, the bullying is not.)

The only information that we can currently gather about Gangle are her canon appearances, the preview screenshot Glitch posted on the official account and to a lesser extent, Gangle's concept art sketches: Alot of it being about her fixation and dependency towards her comedy mask. We don't know whether she's fixated on the actual sensation being happy 24/7 or just the ability to appear joyful around everybody else just yet, or What her real-world equivalent of the mask was, or even if there ever was a real-world equivalent to begin with. But, Personal indictment is that she does genuinely want long term companionship and meaningful connections with other people. Or at the very least, not be subtly ostracized out of social convention. I think she believes that curating her outward demeanor might change the way others perceive her, and hopefully the way they interact with her as well. It doesn't really help that each of the circus crew are all a bit too much in their own heads to notice, one way or another. Even if they do mean well at the end of the day, it's never quite what she's really looking to accomplish. (It also doesn't help that her digital design is so detached from being human either, she's essentially a flat face on a piece of string. One can't really blame her for trying to make the most of what she's able to display tbh.)

So far, we know Jax is apathetic, violent and generally antagonistic towards everyone in the main cast, sometimes deliberately towards the girls. I think it isn't all that farfetched to believe he latched on to Gangle because she was malleable enough to target without facing most of the consequences. Subsequently, there's also the idea of him relating Gangle's tragedy mask to her willingness to comply: It's an emotional vulnerability for her (She already sees herself as less deserving of human interaction in this state, she won't have anyone else to go to, she doesn't seem to like being left alone). It's not farfetched to assume Jax sees the tragedy mask as a more "complied version" of Gangle, more entertaining and easier to string along. Me thinks he prefers it, but again. It's too soon to tell. Anyways something something designated role in group activities something something internalized self-worth I think Gangle and Ragatha have very similar philosophies when it comes to people pleasing and it almost makes me believe in the theory that they secretly don't get along even more.

(btw plz feel absolutely no pressure to respond to any of this at all - Again, very messy thoughts that I barely had time to collect. Ribbun is an unexpected infection with unfortunately very thought consuming brain fodder to me personally. Have a nice day.

I like these thoughts! It'll be really interesting to see how the Comedy and Tragedy masks work for Gangle.

I do agree Jax probably prefers Tragedy Gangle as even if it's only as deep as "she's funnier like that." And Gangle is the easiest victim for him in that state.

We've seen everyone (but Kinger, who Jax kind of doesn't bother too much, and you could argue it's because Kinger doesn't give an entertaining reaction) fight back against Jax's behavior in some way. Ragatha yells at him, Zooble isn't afraid to get physical, and we can tell Pomni had death on her mind when he threw her off the truck. The most Gangle has done is timidly resist for a few seconds before compiling. Steps on her mask, pushes her, grabs her and puts her in the drivers seat, she doesn't say anything.

She has a couple of bite back words, but then Jax just bites back and it shuts her down. Which is interesting because when Ragatha yells at him it's clear he thinks its funny and merely snarks back at her, often getting her to yell more. He gets different reactions out of everyone in the group and picks different entertainment from that. Gangle might be the one he knows he has proper control over.

As for the Ragatha and Gangle thing, I was really interested in the fact no one cared when Gangle broke her mask in the pilot, not even Ragatha who is our outwardly most caring. You could say it's because she had tunnel vision on Pomni, but I immediately interpreted it as, yeah Gangle's mask breaks all the time, she's crying all the time, eventually people stop caring. The boy who cried wolf, etc etc.

Even if Ragatha doesn't have direct conflict with Gangle, the fact Ragatha is someone who internalizes everything, and projects a positive outlook, I imagine someone like Gangle would make her pretty uncomfortable.

Here Ragatha is trying her darnest to keep it together and remain positive, meanwhile Gangle is crying all the time behind her.

"It's not so bad here Pomni, I promise!" as Gangle cries in the background.

Gangle being a constant reminder of how Ragatha, and maybe all of them really feel about being stuck here. Too early to say if Ragatha resents Gangle for this, or how she really feels about it. But if she does that's so sad because (we also don't know yet) Gangle has no control over these feelings, it wasn't her choice for her avatar to work like this.

Which honestly could be a good allegory for how certain people view mental illness in the real world too. Ragatha being a loved one who's uncomfortable with Gangle's moods, or even believes if Gangle just tried hard enough like her (example: keeping her comedy mask safe) she'd be fine. Ooh sad comic ideas.

[fxrheisenn]

D6: Comedy or Tragedy (using 2023 prompt since no idea for both trips rn)

A script idea for some Dickface yuri comic in office romance comedy setting ↓

[in break room at coffee machine] Murderface waiting for her coffee, visibly sulking.

Resentfully recalled yesterday when she posted a selfie on the internet and got a lot of nasty anon comments like "Try harder next time so someone might take you out" "How you survived high school with that dog face😭" "Your mom should've taught you how to do proper makeup"

Her thought bubble was dispersed by Knubbler's abrupt entrance :"Hey, dollface, if you keep looking so glum, I might start worrying—what’s bothering you?"

Murderface was like "dollfacing ME?? for real??" but answered :"Juscht regular work schtuff, ya know, nothing worth talk about." And her coffee cup was filled.

Knubbler believed the words without questioning :"Ah, case of the Mondays. I got something specially for this. Check it out." and took out a thermos.

Murderface :"What, herbal tea? Nah I'm good."

Knubbler revealed with a grin :"Tequila, babe! May I?" and pointed to the coffee.

Murderface's eyes widened :"You drink on Monday mornings?" but still handed her the cup, staring as she poured a little spirits into coffee till the cup was full.

"Oh darling, don't you report me!" Knubbler made a dramatic sad face, "It can't be called drinking compared to what I do on Saturday nights. Speaking of that, do you have any plans this weekend? I know a place we can grab some good stuff together."

Murderface was screaming in her mind. "DID SHE JUST ASKED TO TAKE ME OUT" but tried to act cool about it :"Uh um, depends. It'sch not a date, right?"

"Well, a date between us would be against regulation and super gay," Knubbler paused, and continued as Murderface felt both relieved and disappointed, "But I'm OK to be gay and fuck the regulations!"

"I'm free throughout this weekend." This time, Murderface answered without really understanding what's her opinion on that statement was. "Damn," she can only think about "I need some new dress. And learn makeup shit. Before that day."

End

(Later she would find out Knubbler likes the way she was without any attractive-attempts)

(idk, my lady murderface strikes me as "Born to be a butch, want to be a baby girl" type...)

(Anyways! hope you still like it when it's just script no comic :))

[flieslikeamoron]

For the ask meme, I wish you would write a Steddie teen comedy AU. Plotwise it could run the gamut from Some Kind of Wonderful to Bring It On, and they don't have to be teens (but they could be).

I haven’t forgotten these! I started an Adventures in Babysitting one for this prompt too, so I’m going to try to post that one if I can get a bit farther with it. But this one is The Breakfast Club. Maybe too obvious, but it’s a classic for a reason. Around 2K. There’s a handjob and a slur.

-*-

If anyone asked Eddie, he would say he was relieved to be locked in this supply closet for the last hour of Saturday detention. Why would he want to waste any more of his time with a brain, a loner, a band geek, and the fucking King of Hawkins High? Fuck them, he’d say. At least in here he’s got some peace and quiet. He’d be lying, but that’s what he’d say.

He’s sitting on the floor, scribbling a few notes for his next D&D session in a beat up spiral bound and trying not to wonder what they’re doing without him, when the lock turns on the outside of the door. Eddie looks up, putting on the threatening scowl as easy as he would a hat. Fucking Principal Hig-

It’s not Principal Higgins.

Steve Harrington steps inside the closet and closes it with a soft click behind him. He leans back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Eddie hides his confusion behind a sneer as he climbs to his feet and tucks the folded notebook in his back pocket.

“You lost, your highness?”

Harrington snorts, a rough chuckle in the back of his throat. “You’re so full of shit, Munson.”

The laugh is startled out of him. “Noticed that, did you?” Eddie cocks his head. “That a general statement or did I do something specific to offend you?” 

It’s a ridiculous question. He’s been doing everything he could to offend the guy all day long. He can’t really explain why. Harrington’s not even as bad as he thought. Just doesn’t realize how lucky he is. To be born rich. And hot. And straight. Everything Eddie isn’t. Everything Eddie hates. Except it’s not hate that makes Eddie’s heart speed up every time Harrington runs his hand through his perfect hair or smiles with his perfect mouth. Twisting Eddie up inside just by standing there with his perfect preppy clothes hugging his perfect body. Everything Eddie could never have. So maybe Eddie’s been taking it out on him a little. 

Harrington doesn’t bother answering, he just takes a couple deliberate steps closer. His eyes dark and set on Eddie. If he thinks Eddie’s going to back down, he hasn’t been paying attention. Harrington doesn’t give either, only stopping when they’re chest to chest. Eddie can smell his expensive aftershave. His infuriatingly perfect mouth just a inch away. Eddie tilts his chin up, eyebrows raised, heart pounding. He puts on a smirk. “You gonna take a swing, big boy? Or are you-” 

Harrington closes that inch and kisses Eddie’s open mouth. 

What?

And now Eddie is giving ground, giving way under the shocking heat of Harrington’s mouth against his, until Harrington has him pressed up against a filing cabinet. A handle poking into his shoulderblade and Steve fucking Harrington’s hands fisted in his hair. His head spinning as he grabs onto the stupid polo that’s been driving him crazy all day, and tries to give as good as he’s getting. 

Everything disappears but the heat of Harrington’s body and the wet of his mouth and the ache of Eddie getting hard. But then Harrington pulls back. Not far, but enough to meet Eddie’s eyes. Enough to breathe. As soon as there’s space to breathe, there’s space to think. And the rest of the world comes rushing in. The fear comes rushing in. 

This is a joke. It has to be. It’s a fucking- It’s a trick. And Eddie fell for it. Showed Harrington he was right. Everyone who said it was right. Whoever wrote it in the boy’s bathroom across from the cafeteria was right. Eddie Munson is a fag. The thing is people say shit all the time. They say Eddie Munson worships satan. They say Eddie Munson is a wastoid. A criminal. They say Eddie Munson is a freak. Everybody’s looking for a weakness. A way to make the other guy bleed. They can talk all the shit they want, but they don’t know. They only know as much as you give them, and Eddie doesn’t give anybody anything. Except he just did. Now Harrington knows, and he’s going to- Well, he isn’t doing anything, actually. Except looking at Eddie like he’s waiting for him to catch up.

“Why did you do that?” It comes out softer than Eddie meant for it to.

“Because I wanted to. Because I knew you wouldn’t.” Harrington smiles a little, and adds with a weird amount of fondness in his voice. “Chickenshit.” 

Yeah. The guy really has his number. Eddie tilts his head to acknowledge the hit. “Fair enough,” he says. “But circling back to you wanted to.” It turns into a question sort of at the end.

He’s expecting Harrington to take it back or something, but his voice doesn’t crack. He doesn’t stutter. “That’s what I said.” He’s got that look on his face though. Like he had when he was high on Eddie’s weed and talking about his dad. Talking about disappointing him. Talking about the fact that he doesn’t know sometimes if there’s anything he could do to be good enough for him. He’s got that look like he’s saying things he hasn’t said out loud before. 

It’s not like Eddie has anything to lose at this point. The damage is done, and if Harrington’s not playing some catch a homo game then- “Could you… Want to again?” He clarifies, “Like now?”

He doesn’t sound steady. He stutters. He’s not making sense. But Harrington doesn’t even tease him for it. Just curls a broad hand against the curve of his neck and leans in to kiss him again.

Steve Harrington kisses like he’s had a lot of practice, which is not surprising. He’s a generous kisser, which kind of is. He gives Eddie his open mouth when he wants it. Gives Eddie his tongue, his teeth. Gives Eddie his thigh to rub off on. Tilts his head back agreeably when Eddie caves to the long standing urge to lick his throat. To bite. He gives Eddie a gorgeous groan, his eyes closing. Perfect dark eyelashes on his perfect flushed skin. And then he’s giving Eddie a hand on the hard bulge of his dick. He’s popping the button on Eddie’s jeans so he can slip his hand inside, past his waistband, inside his underwear. Holy-

“Exactly how high are you?” The weed Eddie shared was pretty shitty, but it was obvious from the first drag that Harrington isn’t much of a stoner. Might even have been his first time, though he refused to admit it.

“I’m not high.” Harrington’s forehead brushes against his, so close Eddie can feel his breath on his cheek. “I’m a little high,” he admits. His hand is still inside Eddie’s pants. “So what?”

“So how much of this is-”

“I’ve done it before.” Harrington gets Eddie’s pants open, gets Eddie’s dick out. Eddie grunts at the skin to skin contact, eyes closing with that first real slide up the shaft. “Just let me.” 

He’s fucking done it before? When? With who? Eddie feels like he’s been blindsided with a dodgeball to the back of the head. Something Harrington actually did to him in gym a couple years ago. Questions piling up inside him, images trying to flash into his head. He wants to ask, but it’s hard to think with Harrington’s hand on his dick. 

Jesus. He’s just standing there sweating and panting like he’s never had his dick touched before. He can’t let this fucking prep show him up. He’s touched more dicks than Steve Harrington has, he’s sure of it. He reaches to get Harrington’s jeans open, feeling kind of out of body as he watches his hand circle the vivid hot length of his dick. That’s Steve Harrington’s dick. In his hand. A good weight against his palm, the soft skin catching a little. He pulls off to spit in his hand. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He’s going to give Harrington the best handjob he’s ever had in his life.

For a little while there's nothing but the building ache in his balls, the sweet, slick tug on his dick. Harrington’s mouth against his. The insistent kisses that are stealing Eddie’s breath while he works Eddie over, winding him up so tight he can barely concentrate on keeping his own hand moving. One hand digging into Harrington’s sleeve for dear life and the other stripping his dick like he’s gonna get graded on it later. Eddie hoards every little sound he draws from Harrington’s throat, every sigh, every choked off groan. He’s trying not to go off too fast, but those sounds, and Harrington’s body pinning him to the filing cabinet, and the relentless stroke of his hand…

He clamps down on Harrington’s arm as he comes, teeth gritting, feeling the patch on Harrington’s jacket sleeve tearing loose a bit under Eddie’s grip. He wants it suddenly. Wants to hear the thread popping, wants to tear and take and have. Harrington’s head lifts, lips coming away from the curve of Eddie’s chin. His hand loosening on Eddie’s spent dick. He watches Eddie with heavy lidded eyes as he tears the patch all the way off, leaving a circle of ragged thread. He meets Eddie’s eyes, raises his eyebrows.

“Souvenir?” Eddie says. 

“Put it on your vest.” He’s a little breathless, but doesn’t seem to be pissed Eddie just vandalized his pristine letterman.

“I fucking will,” Eddie says, eyebrows raised like it was a dare. Maybe it was. Harrington’s hips are moving, nudging his dick into Eddie’s fist, his hand tight in Eddie’s hair as he gets close. Eddie watches him tip over the edge, his neck straining, his mouth open. Eddie almost wishes he hadn’t seen it. That he didn’t know exactly what Steve Harrington looks like when he comes. It’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He ducks in to take one more kiss while Harrington is still come dumb, before he comes to his senses. Harrington kisses him back for longer than Eddie would have expected. But then, he’s been finding out all day that Harrington is not quite what he expected.

“Fuck,” Harrington says, pulling back slowly. “I have to get back before Higgins comes to let us out of the library.” He makes it sound like an apology. Like he would stay if he could. He’s probably good at that though. As good as he is at kissing. Just as much practice with smoothing over awkward morning afters. 

After a long moment he steps back, turns toward the door. “See you Monday, Munson.” 

They look each other over, making sure they’re somewhat presentable. Nobody’s dick out. Jizz mostly contained. Harrington does have a couple red marks on his throat, and his mouth is swollen in a way that makes that tear, take, have feeling surge up again. Eddie wonders if there are any marks on him, if his hair is a mess. Harrington straightens Eddie’s jacket. He tweaks one of the buttons on Eddie’s vest and steps back. Looks at Eddie for a long moment. Maybe to see if there’s anything incriminating he missed. But Eddie thinks maybe- Maybe he’s just looking. Like Eddie’s looking at him. Memorizing. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. Harrington hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. And Eddie doesn’t want to say it. It’s fucking pathetic, he shouldn’t- But he wants to know. He needs to know. “Will you still know my name on Monday?” Harrington looks back at him. “It’s Eddie, by the way.”

Harrington hesitates instead of just lying, which Eddie has to give him credit for. Actually seems to think about it, chewing on his lip. Maybe picturing Eddie coming up to him in the cafeteria when he’s got all the jocks, the popular kids, hanging on his every word. Looking for weaknesses. He meets Eddie’s eyes, and flashes a little smile. Not a perfect smile, a bit uncertain, but honest. Devastating. “Yeah,” he says simply. “Will you know mine?” 

Eddie does him the courtesy of really thinking about it too. About all the shit he and his friends talk about the preps and the jocks. He’s made full on speeches at the top of his lungs. He’s torn Steve into pieces more than once for the amusement of his friends. Steve’s looking at him, a little cynical. Like he thinks he knows the answer. Eddie doesn’t want to be what he expects. Eddie doesn’t want to pretend this never happened.

“Simon?” Eddie says, pointing at him like this is the first time they’ve met. “No, I’ve got it, I remember, it’s uh-” 

Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“Steve,” Eddie says, before he can get too fed up. The smile he gets is worth it.

Steve opens the door just a crack to make sure the hallway is clear. Says, “See you Monday, Eddie,” with a wink. Then slips outside and closes the door behind him. 

As soon as Eddie’s alone again, it’s hard to believe he didn’t make the whole thing up. It would be a lot easier to buy that he’s totally lost it, just having full on hallucinations. But he’s still holding Steve’s patch in his hand. There’s still a little jizz on his shoe. It happened. And on Monday- Well, who knows. Monday’s practically a lifetime away. It’s easy to pretend when the halls are empty and nobody’s around but a brain, a loner, a band geek, a criminal and the King of Hawkins High. Eddie would be stupid to think anything that happened today will survive Monday coming. But he’ll put that fucking patch on his vest. He’ll wear it like a dare. And maybe Steve will surprise him again.

[copperbadge]

I didn’t get to post this when I was on the plane, but for the flight back I was seated in an aisle seat, with an elderly man in the window seat next to me and his equally elderly wife in the seat across the aisle from mine. I thought about offering her my seat but I really, really liked my seat, and they didn’t seem bothered when they came in and sat down. 

During the flight I mostly read, and I wrote that thing about the airline food, and for a while just stared into space listening to a podcast, which for me is highly unusual, but I was both tired and unmedicated (no point in taking meds on the flight, might as well save them for navigating customs and getting home). And I’d notice, because they’re pretty visible, what my seatmate and his wife across the aisle were watching on the individual TV screens. 

She was mainlining comedy -- first a Big Bang Theory marathon and then, I think, Derry Girls? In any case that woman soaked up at least five hours of Big Bang Theory which...I hope she slept through some of it. 

Meanwhile, her husband was watching just the grimmest, darkest movies; one was called Prisoners and was about kidnappings -- I wiki’d it after happening to glance over right as someone committed a graphic suicide on-screen, which I could have done without and I question the wisdom of making available on an airplane where we’re all prisoners to one another’s media. 

Anyway then he watched something called To Leslie, which also looked dark as hell and was about the life of a woman with serious substance misuse issues. And then I’d look from left to right and there was his wife watching Sheldon say Bazinga. 

I think maybe they did it on purpose. I think maybe the key to a long marriage for them is to never sit together on airplanes. 

[squarebracket-trickster]

Writeblr Re-Intro!!

Friends and Enemy, hi!

I figured I would write a new intro because my old one is now out-of-date. I have finished my second draft of WIPVII (placeholder name until I actually bother to title it). It clocked in at 77 049 words, which was exactly within my goal of 80 000 +/- 5000.

After many false starts and a deliberate hiatus to flesh out some worldbuilding, I am now working on my third draft!

This blog is really just for me, to chronicle my thoughts as I write, but I have made so many friends on Writeblr already and am always open to making more!

For the actual intro bit:

My name is Kate, Square, Not-Square (thanks Not-Cheeto hehe), Rubiks (thanks Sleepy :3), or whatever nickname you would like for me (she/her). I mostly write fantasy with the occasional sci-fi project on the side. I love epic high fantasy (in the vein of LotR or Wheel of Time) and YA fantasy romances equally.

Funny enough, my current project is none of those things. It's more like a YA twist on a Shakespeare comedy than anything else -- if I had to pick a genre. Something like Twelfth Night, Cymbeline, or As You Like It. It's got a young women running from an arranged marriage, a b-plot to prevent a war, forbidden love, mistaken identity hijinks, a forest setting, bandits, a fairy-tale High Medieval backdrop, and it wouldn't be truly like a Shakespeare comedy without cross-dressing and queer characters.

I have several other WIPs on the go but this is the one I am prioritizing.

I don't post full chapters because I am hoping to query one of these centuries (and also, it's not yet ready for human eyes)... but I do live-blog the process when I am writing and I share my favourite lines.

My goal for my third draft is just to make the prose effective. My first drafts are word vomit. My second drafts are mostly structural and trimming the cringe. My third drafts are where it actually starts to reflect my prose ability.

If you write sci-fi, fantasy, or weird fiction of any kind I would love to get to know you. You are also welcome to hang around if you are interested in watching someone else go through the revision process of writing a novel, or if the concept itself intrigues you. I am happy to answer questions about first/second drafts and writing in general.

[mercipourlevenim]

Something is up with Noel. You don’t just drop everything and run away to France, leaving tons of people (including your own brother) hanging without something serious going on. He posts regularly on instagram but does he even run that account? Anyways I just hope he says something soon

hey anon! there is DEFINITELY something serious going on, and i hope we get to know exactly what soon. i don't think he 'ran away' to france, though. birdy's family lives there, and he's been known to have a house there for a while, so my guess is that he left for the holidays and the sun decided to use this information to suggest something that is simply untrue. again, this are just my thoughts, we still know nothing factual - or not much, anyways. with the new information that's come out today, this is what i believe as of now:

1. it definitely makes me nervous to know that the person who greelit dick turpin is the same person who basically got him the job at bake off, especially because they refuse to say if this will affect his future in the show

2. ⁠i don't like either the fact that we know he will quite likely get paid for his work on the show (even if equity says so) because people will definitely weaponise that against him

3. ⁠i think it is incredibly strange that his agent has denied that he actually dropped out of the show, because i need to know what the actual story is, then

4. ⁠a lot of people are bringing up tons of 'this is exactly what he did during series 3 of the boosh' accusations and i don't think it is fair to hold his behaviour then against him now, especially when he ran a whole show on his own after that (people seem to forget about luxury comedy lol) i also don't believe that half the people who blame him now for the end of the boosh actually has some insight on the situation lol either that or the whole of england worked on the show jsjsjsjs

5. there have been mentions of him having long term covid and birdy suffering from an immune system disorder, so that worries me quite a bit. hopefully they're both okay. 😞

ultimately, it bothers me that he is still posting as usual - i do believe it's him running his instagram account, even if there are instances where i think someone else might be running things on the side. it is not the first time he remains silent when everyone is sitting on the edge of their seats. hopefully this silence will end soon - i really REALLY hope so.

[i-heart-hxh]

Hey! I’ve absolutely been loving your posts and re-posts lately. I’ve been heavily getting back into HxH recently and the Killugon brain rot is real. I’d like to get your opinion on something though. I’ve been thinking a lot about the scene during the “Palm date arc” where Killua and Gon are working out at the gym and Killua asks Gon if he’s been on a date before. Obviously this is a pretty famous scene for a number of reasons, although personally I’ve always found it to be one of the most misunderstood scenes in the entire series, as I’ve yet to see anyone really share my thoughts for what I think Togashi was trying to do with it. It actually showcases his writing skills very well imo, and I think that (besides the very surface level comedy of the interaction) there’s 3 things this whole scene is trying to tell us:

1. Killua and Gon have two entirely different conceptions of dating and what it means, with Gon being either oblivious or innocent to any romantic or intimate meaning while Killua is very much the more mature one who understands those parts of dating. This is probably the most.

2. Killua is clearly upset and put off by the idea of Gon going on dates with anyone, and arguably very jealous when Gon tells him about past “dates”.

3. Killua has no desire to go on dates with people, and just wants to stay by Gon’s side “forever” when the subject of dating is brought up.

Now, I have much longer form explanations and evidence for all of these points I can give but I’d like to see your interpretation of my thoughts first, as again, I think this is both of one of the most misunderstood scenes in the whole series, and one of the most important for understanding Killua and Gon’s dynamic and how they feel about relationships

Hello! Thank you so much, it makes me happy to hear you're enjoying my posts. I've been internally cultivating my HxH brainrot for years and it feels good to finally be able to share more of it. I'm so glad you sent this to me so I can weigh in, I'd love to hear your additional thoughts as well!

This is an excellent analysis and you're spot on! I love that you're focusing on a small scene rather than the arc as a whole, because it makes it easier to pull apart each aspect of it and the intended meaning without having to leave things out. I think the larger context of this subplot does nothing but support what you're saying, too.

The thing that stands out to me with these panels is how much Togashi is emphasizing Killua's shock and stress over this. The huge metaphorical boulder, his expressions, he is clearly bothered. And sure, it is comedic because Killua is not understanding Gon here because of their different levels of awareness, but I don't think that takes away from what is being said. The scene could have been set up in a way that doesn't immediately conjure up the concept of jealousy on Killua's part, but Togashi makes it clear over and over again in this arc how panicked and upset Killua is at the thought of Gon going on a date (with someone who is unhinged, but while Killua is certainly concerned about that, he seems just as bothered by the thought of Gon going on a date specifically).

As the audience, I think we gather by Gon's line about Mito that he's not talking about real dates, and that the things they were teaching him were probably innocent (I sometimes see people taking this at surface level, but I really think Togashi is being tongue-in-cheek here and showing us that Gon's view of what dates are is innocent and lacks context). But of course Killua is in the middle of a gay crisis here and he doesn't catch on and misunderstands.

Then, so shortly after, we're into Killua stating he wanted to stay with Gon forever (ずっと). I didn't like how the English version of this line was phrased, seemed like it was being downplayed a bit and didn't contain the word "forever," so here it is in Japanese. I think it's incredibly telling how it goes immediately from thinking about Gon going on dates and denying that he has been on dates (because he was learning to kill and then with Gon) into this line, and especially with how downright pained Killua's expression is at the thought of having to leave Gon, as he promised himself. It's hard to come up with any other explanation for this scene, you know?

This is more my own interpretation than straight-up analysis, but I think this is maybe another straw in the pile of Killua thinking his feelings for Gon are one-sided as well, as he struggles with through all of CAA--in Killua's misunderstood/mistaken view here, Gon has been on multiple dates and has experience with romance and therefore he might be more "normal," while Killua feels like his whole world is Gon--and he doesn't seem interested in the thought of going on dates himself, all he comes back to is wanting to be with Gon. It might widen the chasm between them a little bit in Killua's eyes.

Anyway, all of this is basically just expounding on what you already said. I appreciate how you summed it up so clearly and succinctly! I agree that it's a great example of Togashi's writing, which is very rich, and often even small scenes like this have multiple meanings and intentions we can take from them if we look at them carefully. His eye for detail is incredible.

Like I said above, the full arc's context surrounding this scene only supports the conclusions you came to--there are more examples throughout of Killua's jealousy in this specifically romantic context, Gon's lack of full awareness on this topic, and Killua's devotion to Gon. It's so telling of Togashi's intentions that ultimately the Palm subplot concludes with Palm of all people emphasizing that Killua is the one Gon needs.

[yuri-is-online]

hotarubi/sho anon, just saw your post about vagastrom vice-captain and I believe it's Tohma? He probably transferred to Frostheim after whoever was vice-captain there left (during or after the Clash I believe?)

That's why Jin was kinda cagey around him, and most obvious was when he tells Tohma to "drop the act" and Tohma replies that he's grown used to it before talking casually for a while. Also I just got the feeling that despite being so intelligent and cunning, he gives a vibe of someone who's comfortable using brute strength as well - kinda like how Deuce from twst used to be a delinquent before he decided to change his ways and aim to be an honor student.

And then we have Tohma and Alan interacting and trying to find out the spy - I reread that chapter and his specific words (in jpn) were "It might be strange coming from me, but I hope they lighten the load for you, even a little."

To me it sounds like he feels bad about leaving Alan high and dry without his own vice-captain since there were no other ghouls in Vagastrom to replace him, but clearly he has some loyalty/promise to Jin that took precedence. Which is also why Alan's kinda sensitive in the campus event where Leo straight-up asks about the mod on the car that doesn't let him eavesdrop, Alan was quiet until Leo said he'd probe into Tohma instead, at which point Alan gets mad and tells him not to bother him. Alan probably feels like Tohma is still "one of his people" even after he left the dorm.

Also I saw a jpn artist draw Tohma in the Vagastrom uniform having a smoke and made me go damn that makes sense.

I'm very much on the same page as you about Tohma, Sho anon, I made that post as a sort of throwaway note to the larger one I made about Leo sniffing around for clues about Dante as it's a possibility I thought of, but nothing about Dante screams Vagastrom to me. He's very much closer to Frostheim or what we've seen of Clementia.

Tohma is a deeply interesting character to me. Despite having Jade's voice actor, his personal story seems to be much closer to Ruggie's; we know for a fact he was in Vagastrom "until the middle of last year" as Leo calls Alan out on that, and if there were only two ghouls in the whole dorm then by process of elimination we can say he was the Vice Captain. From what Alan says about telling Leo to back off and what Jin says about "the act" (he's wearing a monocle literally only a delinquent would think that makes him more noble looking) he seems like someone who is trying to better his place in the world through making connections. If what Alan said about people in Vagastrom having people on the outside they're trying to make things better for is true, then I wouldn't be surprised if Tohma has or had some family he wants a better life for. Alan seems to find that admirable in people which is why he doesn't want Leo poking into his business since that does not seem to be something that Satan spawn understands.

As for Dante... his name makes me think of the Divine Comedy as does his apparent brush with death. I want to save all of my thoughts about him for the information post I'm putting together, as what I think about Jin, but I'll say this much now. All of the dorm captains we see (other than Yuri) have some sort of identity crisis going on at the moment. I don't think that's a coincidence.